


There's love if you want it

by RedHorse



Series: Sonnet verse [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Christmas decor, Consensual Gang Bang, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Gang Bang, Intercrural Sex, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spitroasting, blanket consent, did i mention feelings, gang bang with feelings, mention of past trauma but it’s not a reocurring theme, sex with strangers, yes these things go together i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21991051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHorse/pseuds/RedHorse
Summary: “I’m going to love it,” Sirius admitted more softly, grasping Harry by the hips, bruising. “Seeing you all shaking and spread out. Getting a good look at how you take them, one by one. And I’m going to hate it,” he added, bending his head to hide his gritted teeth against Harry’s neck. He smelled sharp, sweaty and clean. “Seeing other people touch you, have you. God. I’m going to be so proud and so furious and so fucking turned on.”
Relationships: Sirius Black/Harry Potter
Series: Sonnet verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583017
Comments: 24
Kudos: 270





	There's love if you want it

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to write this since just after I finished "Don't sound like no sonnet" -- it's taken me ages but I think it just needed that time to come together. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out and I hope you are too. 
> 
> Everyone, please heed the tags, for goodness sake.
> 
> Thanks x1000 to cybrid and mith for the beta!

Sirius had been monitoring Harry carefully, alert for any sign the whole thing should be called off. But so far, though Harry was understandably nervous, he was mostly excited. Sirius put a gentle hand on Harry’s neck as they got off the bike. Harry almost vibrated with tension under the touch. But when he looked at Sirius his eyes were clear and bright, his breath coming in eager pants, and Sirius glanced down to check he found there was already a bulge in his jeans.

Seeing him look, Harry chuckled self-consciously and stepped in close, grinding shamelessly against Sirius’ thigh with a little moan.

“I was going to ask if you were sure,” Sirius laughed, holding Harry tightly by the waist and rubbing the small of his back. “But now I see that would be a very stupid question.”

Sirius propped his chin on Harry’s head and looked out at the surrounding street. It was late evening and after an earlier snow, the skies were blue-black and clear, pierced by starlight. The blanket of white softened every noise, the hum of traffic and the distant chatter of voices inside the bustling shops and restaurants. The only building on the street in this part of downtown that was dark and shuttered was the one they stood in front of. Despite the surrounding activity it felt like Sirius and Harry were alone at the center of the world, tied together by the secret of what they were about to do to Harry.

“I’m sure,” Harry murmured, “God. Please.”

Sirius laughed, pulling back but keeping a firm hold on Harry’s body, wrapping an arm around him so he was tight at Sirius’ side as they went in. Sirius’ was the sixth bike parked along the snowy curb.

The building had last been used as a clothing store, so racks and hangers stood around in the darkness inside. The only light came from the street lamps outside. A trio of mannequins loomed, haunting in the shadows. 

“Creepy bastards,” Sirius noted, nodding at them. “But then everything looks like a scary movie in the dark. I should have thought of bringing lamps or something.” He looked up at the overhead light, but that would be too bright, too clinical, for the scene he had in mind for Harry.

“The dark might be better,” Harry said shyly, leaning into Sirius.

Sirius dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “Yeah? Whatever you want. I want it to be perfect.”

Harry heard some telltale note of anxiety in Sirius’ voice, apparently, because he turned to peer up at him with a fond smile.

“Are _you_ sure?” He faced Sirius and rubbed both of his arms, slowly, with his ever-warm hands that made Sirius’ skin tingle even through the leather sleeves. “If you’re not, we don’t have to.”

Sirius felt his heart swell with this absurdly powerful love he’d never thought existed in real life before Harry; a love so strange and wonderful he still convinced himself he’d imagined it from time to time. Then Harry went and said something like this. Said it while looking at him calmly, calling into question yet again who was really the older one. (It depended if you were measuring by body or soul.) 

“Yes,” Sirius said, bending to kiss him, unable to help it. It was quick and close-mouthed but Sirius still felt a burst of sweetness, like he’d tasted Harry’s warm tongue.

“I never asked,” Harry murmured. “I should have. It’s not just about what _I_ w-want.” He hung his head at the last word but not before Sirius saw how his mouth twisted into a tight frown.

“Hey,” Sirius said softly, touching his chin. “None of that. We’re past that, right?”

He remembered when Harry had first brought up the idea. How miserable he’d looked. How ashamed.

_“There’s nothing wrong with wanting what you want,” Sirius had said, fighting his own, admittedly considerable, shock. “You should have whatever you want.”_

_“But isn’t it—fucked up?”_

_Sirius had laughed, a startled bark that had made Harry smile despite himself. “Well, I guess. Most of the hottest things are.”_

_“Not because of—not because of the_ acts. _But because of what happened? I used to think about it before,” Harry had hastened to add. “Jerk off to it.”_

_Sirius’ shock had been swiftly giving way to lurid interest. He had wet his lip, trying to sound casual and supportive when he’d said, softly, “Oh, yeah?”_

_Harry had nodded, not looking at him, twisting his hands together in his lap. “When they said they were going to—I didn’t think—I didn’t want it.” He’d looked at Sirius then, brave as only Harry could be. Sirius himself had avoided any thought of the store room since it happened. The idea of anyone hurting Harry like that made him want to punch something or someone, or be punched._

_“Of course you didn’t.”_

_“But since then—if it hadn’t been like that—“ He’d trailed off._

_“Harry,” Sirius had said slowly, leaning forward, hands trembling with the urge to touch Harry but well aware he shouldn’t, not at the moment. “You don’t have to feel bad for not being traumatized in the exact way someone might think that you should be.” He’d remembered Harry’s_ first _of the two therapists and felt that punching urge flare again. But the new one had been good. Really good. Still, he’d known without asking that Harry wouldn’t have run any of his sex fantasies by her; that wasn’t something Harry would or could do._

_Harry had looked heartbreakingly grateful. “I wanted it before,” he’d said firmly. “And I still want it.”_

_Sirius had lifted a hand then and laid it carefully on Harry’s head. “And what you want, you shall have.”_

Sirius had been thinking of everything strictly from Harry’s perspective, tailoring the experience to what he thought Harry would like, down to instructing the men on how to wash and supplying them with fragrance-free deodorant. He’d barely paused to consider the evening from his own point of view.

Now that he was, his reaction surprised him.

“Sirius,” Harry said quietly, his hands gone still at Sirius’ elbows. “Sirius.”

Sirius snapped back to the immediate present and blinked at Harry. “I’m sure.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Yeah, very convincing. Look—a fantasy isn’t worth making you uncomfortable.”

“I—“ Sirius began, narrowing his eyes, but Harry was now in full ramble.

“We should call it off.” He squeezed Sirius’s wrists and let go of him, taking a sideways step toward the door. “You can get me that fancy motorcycle for Christmas instead, like you wanted.”

“Harry.”

“Now that I’m not thinking of getting fucked, my fast has really caught up with me,” Harry added, walking in earnest toward the door, past the watchful mannequins and around a rolling display for folded clothes. “Let’s go to that Indian place we walked by last night. It smelled amazing.”

“Harry!” Sirius said, louder and firmer than he’d intended. He rarely spoke to Harry that way outside the bedroom but it had its intended effect. Harry stopped talking and stopped moving, frozen wide-eyed instead.

“I’m not doing you a favor here,” Sirius said, his voice made rough by his sudden realization. “You think I’m not going to like it?”

Harry bit his lip, said nothing, and watched Sirius walk toward him. He had his glasses on. They made him look young.

“I’m going to love it,” Sirius admitted more softly, grasping Harry by the hips, bruising. “Seeing you all shaking and spread out. Getting a good look at how you take them, one by one. And I’m going to hate it,” he added, bending his head to hide his gritted teeth against Harry’s neck. He smelled sharp, sweaty and clean. “Seeing other people touch you, have you. God. I’m going to be so proud and so furious and so fucking turned on.”

“ _Sirius.”_

But Sirius couldn’t stop now. He hadn’t planned to shift, to _begin,_ until they got in the back room with the men, but now he realized it had begun now, necessarily. It had to begin now or they’d never get through the door.

“You know I’ll always take care of you.” He kissed Harry’s neck, then bit the same spot, gently. “You know I’ve taken care of everything, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s right, baby,” Sirius said soothingly, sliding a hand between them and over the line of Harry’s cock in his snug jeans. He had another revelation. Harry was wearing his glasses. The glasses that Harry avoided when they went out, claiming they made him look like a kid. He’d put on atypical clothing too: fitted jeans, sneakers with messy laces.

Sirius absorbed what all Harry’s choices meant and followed his instincts. “Come on kiddo,” he said, holding Harry’s hand. “I’ll introduce you to my friends.”

***

Harry wondered if Sirius could feel how fast Harry’s heart was beating through their clasped palms as they went into the back room. 

There was light on the other side, but it was odd: dim and full of color. A few balled-up strands of Christmas lights were the source, apparently retrieved from an open box in the corner heaped with garland and cheap felt ribbons. 

Harry had never seen the men waiting there before, but Sirius had told him who he was asking. Apparently when Sirius was behind bars the first time, he’d made friends. A few of them had been released well before him. One, his old cell mate, had only been out a few weeks. 

Harry sucked in a breath at the sight of them, five rough guys, tattooed and with the look of people who knew what it was like to be caged. Their eyes fastened onto Harry at once, oddly bright, like those of a cluster of wolves glimpsed after dark.

Harry thought wonderingly what it had been like for Sirius, gathering together the hardened criminals he’d bonded with in prison for the occasion of fucking Sirius’ boyfriend. The gravity of the gift he’d given Harry felt greater yet.

“Hey guys,” Sirius said, drawing Harry forward. “This is Harry.”

There was a rumble of low male voices as everyone said a variant of “Hi, Harry.” No one was introduced in turn.

“Like I said,” Sirius said evenly, maneuvering Harry gently in front of him, releasing his hand in the process with a final firm squeeze, “you can borrow him, but you’ll have to be gentle. I’m attached.”

“I didn’t know you were capable of that, Black,” said one of the men gruffly. He was big, slightly paunchy, and had long white dreadlocks. The others laughed.

The men had been in something of a semicircle, like they’d been chatting before Sirius and Harry arrived, leaving room around the door. Sirius nudged Harry into their midst with a hand on the small of his back. Harry walked a few steps away from Sirius, and two of the men moved so Harry was surrounded by them. Sirius ambled over and leaned casually against the wall, kicking the box of Christmas decor away from his feet.

Harry felt a surge of panic, his gaze tripping from one face to the next. The older man who’d spoken before was the tallest and broadest, but all of them were bigger than Harry and noticeably older, with the exception of one who looked almost boyish, with a neat crew cut and nervous dark eyes. He had his face angled away, like he couldn’t quite bring himself to look at Harry straight on.

Beside him was another younger man who might have been called fresh-faced if he hadn’t had an ugly scar stretching from the corner of his mouth to his cheekbone. His hair was black and messy like Sirius’, but unlike Sirius he looked unwashed instead of just unkempt.

Beside him was a man nearly as tall as the one with the dreadlocks, but he was whip-thin, with dark skin, short cornrows and a smooth, square jaw. Rounding them out was a thin, pockmarked man probably around Sirius’ age, but the years hadn’t been kind to him. His forehead was lined and his shoulders a little hunched. When he smiled at Harry, though, he looked kind—almost shy—and revealed a gap between his front teeth. 

They all wore leather and jeans, motorcycle boots. A few even had patches, which gave Harry a start, but he didn’t recognize any of them. He had to wonder whether any of them even had affiliations, or if Sirius had found them random cuts and told them to wear them. Sirius could be very detail-oriented, almost obsessively so. And ultimately, this was all an act, Harry reminded himself firmly. None of the strange men here were in control. Sirius was.

But even as Harry reminded himself that it was all a game, the strange light and charged atmosphere caught him in their swift current. He felt equal parts fear and ordinary performance anxiety at the sight of the men waiting to fuck him. After all, maybe the circumstances were an act, but what they were going to do was quite real.

In the beat of silence that was stretching toward awkwardness, Sirius spoke. He sounded vaguely amused. “I think an icebreaker might be in order. Harry, be a sweetheart and get everyone wet.”

Harry’s mouth was flooded with saliva at the very thought. Sirius, talking _like that_ , always had an effect on him, but the idea of kneeling in this circle while five unfamiliar cocks got pulled out was so humiliating and hot Harry was torn between wanting to drop to his knees or just yank open his jeans and jerk himself to completion at the mere thought.

He’d have plenty of time for that, though. Tonight was a night he intended to relive in memory for a long time. And the best way to do that would be to make it last, of course. Besides, he made a point to never disobey Sirius in this context. That decision had yet to lead him astray.

Harry sank to his knees, and the man he happened to be facing—the scarred one—sucked in an anticipatory breath. Then he quickly unzipped, reaching inside bunched white boxers to pull himself out. Harry didn’t study his cock except to absorb that it was a little smaller than Sirius’, and that he hadn’t seen one that was uncircumsized up close. Then he was shuffling forward on his knees, as though magnetized. He rested his hands gently on the stranger’s thighs for balance and put his mouth around the head, testing the taste and consistency of the wrinkled foreskin with his tongue. It was soft and delicate and apparently sensitive; the man clutched Harry by the hair and huffed out a little moan.

“Don’t hog him,” complained the next guy, who had come closer, close enough he could reach out, take a handful of Harry’s hair himself and tug Harry off gently, guiding his mouth onto his own cock. It was thickest in the middle, longer than the first. They both tasted clean, odorless, which made Harry grateful. Scented soap had always bothered him. 

Around Harry went. Five cocks, five quick sucks just to get them wet like Sirius had wanted. The man with the dreadlocks had thick pubic hair with as much white hair as black. The slender dark-skinned man had a fat cock that stretched Harry’s jaw wide. The pockmarked man was surprisingly the largest of all, giving Harry a little trouble as he tried to slick the swollen pink shaft from top to bottom and had to resort to licking around the base.

They chatted idly when it wasn’t their turn, but politely paid attention while Harry was on them, petting him absently. The young one’s hands fluttered nervously over Harry’s head, almost tickling, and when Harry pulled off the kid blinked at him and said, breathily, “Thanks.”

Harry wiped his chin and sat back on his heels. He was a little short of breath and his knees felt raw, but he was hard and his mind was already pleasantly hazy from focusing on his task to the exclusion of other thoughts.

“Okay then,” Sirius said. Harry searched him out, feeling a wave of contentment just at the sight of him, gut-wrenchingly handsome where he was propped against the wall, tossing an oversized glass Christmas ornament from one hand to the other. Sirius always had to keep his hands busy; it had been the hardest part of quitting smoking for him, dropping the habit of spinning the trigger on the lighter, cradling the paper and the flame together in the shelter of his hands, lifting and lowering the cigarette from his side to his mouth to his side. Sirius saw Harry looking at him and met his eye for just a moment with a warm smile that flooded Harry’s whole body with euphoria.

Then Sirius said, “Who’s first?”

Harry heard the tearing foil of a condom wrapper and felt a large hand in the middle of his back, tipping him forward. “I’m not kneeling on this fucking floor,” said dreadlocks. “I’ll fuck his mouth after I’ve watched a bit.”

“You should let the kid go,” said the little one with the big cock. The guy had big hands too, in proportion. He was cradling himself, rubbing his cockhead with a big blunt thumb, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watched Harry drop to his hands and knees. “If he watches too long he’ll blow his load. Look at him.”

“The first rule of gangbangs, Black: never invite a virgin.”

Laughter all around. Harry was distracted by the combined effort of trying to figure out which one was pulling down his jeans and wriggling helpfully to assist them. He didn’t get a look at the one they called “the kid” to see if they were right.

“I’m _not_ a virgin,” said the young one sharply. He was out of sight to Harry’s left. Then he added, a little more softly, “But I’ve never fucked a guy.”

“You’ve taken it,” said dreadlocks bluntly. No one asked how he knew and the kid didn’t argue. “You’ll like it. S’nice. But Ethan beat you to the first turn, it looks like.”

Apparently, Harry thought dazedly, feeling something bigger than fingers nudging his hole. He’d lubed himself at home and worn his biggest plug most of the afternoon. Sirius had insisted, and now Harry understood why. It would break the rhythm, spoil the ambiance, if any of them took the time to open him up. The guy—Ethan, whoever that was—slid in a few inches without much trouble, patting Harry on the small of his back like he was mounting a nervous horse.

It was surreal being fucked by someone other than Sirius. A stranger’s cock pushing in, slow and steady. Harry blinked at the realization and had the strange urge to cry out, to call it off. He took in a few short breaths. Then, just when he thought he might crack— 

“That’s a boy,” Sirius said softly. He was across the room, much further from Harry than anyone else, but his voice seemed to be right in Harry’s ear, his head, like they were closer together than they’d ever been.

Harry’s breathing deepened and he relaxed onto his elbows, which in turn loosened the way enough for Ethan that he could bottom out on the next gentle thrust.

“Fuck,” said dreadlocks.

“I’ve never seen one go in,” said the kid, “‘cept in porn. It looks like porn.”

“You hear that, Black? Your barely-legal boyfriend here has got a porn-worthy ass.”

“I’m aware.”

Behind him, panting a little, Ethan said, “He feels good. Fuck.” He reached around and gave Harry’s cock an approving squeeze. Harry, still hard despite his few moments of misgivings, huffed encouragingly, and with the next grinding thrust Ethan jerked him with a steady, pleasant pace.

“Of course Ethan takes his fucking time at this, just like everything else.”

“Be polite. There’s four of us after you.”

“So much complaining,” Sirius observed, “when I see a perfectly willing and available mouth that no one seems to be using.”

Ethan thrusted a little deeper and rougher. “Yeah. Fuck. I’d like to see that.”

“Get after it, Woodrow.” Footsteps. Then a large pair of motorcycle boots came into Harry’s line of vision and the dark-skinned guy knelt before Harry, warm hands raising him up to line his mouth up with that fat, swollen purple cock. Harry opened as wide as he could.

Years before when he had stumbled on the spread in a dirty magazine, it had emblazoned itself on his sexual consciousness. A young-looking, lean guy, ass and mouth being simultaneously punished by big cocks attached to older, aggressive men. Now it was happening. He loved Sirius so much right then he could have burst with it, but instead he tried to do Sirius proud, sucking the way he’d been coached, even while the cock in his ass made its dozenth rhythmic pass by his prostate and an insistent burning demand began growing in his cock and balls and deeper, broader, ‘til it was everywhere. He had a moment of vertigo and forgot to brace himself, and for a few seconds he was jerked forward and back on the cocks in his ass and mouth like he was nothing more than a rag doll, the big one in his mouth so deep he couldn’t breathe, the rug burning his knees. He couldn’t hold off coming another moment, then, especially when the cock he was sucking pulsed warmly on his tongue. Harry came too, still unable to breathe but no longer caring in the feverish rush.

Woodrow’s softening cock was pulled from his mouth. Harry, gasping, dropped to his elbows, pressed his forehead into the carpet, still jerking and seizing. The clenching pushed Ethan over the edge too. He gave a few more fast, hard, irregular thrusts and then slumped forward, breathing hot on Harry’s shoulder blades.

But the kid was ready, so Ethan didn’t bask long. He pulled himself out and Harry heard a sharp slap, realizing when the kid yelped and the others laughed that Ethan had slapped the kid on the ass like he was a coach sending a player into the game.

“Go get ‘em.” 

The kid muttered “ _You fucker_ ,” but wasted no time grabbing Harry by the hips with clammy hands. He pushed in with stuttering little thrusts and sharp breaths. The men’s encouragement went from good-natured mockery to sincere within a few seconds.

“There you go, Sal. It’s kinda like fucking a girl. You’ve fucked a girl, right?”

“Um,” Sal said. He strained against Harry, and Harry’s hole let him in a half-inch, still loose from Ethan, but Harry didn’t think Sal was entirely hard. It didn’t feel like he was going to make it any further in.

“Okay, kid, you’re doing great,” said dreadlocks. “Get that nice cock in there. Sirius’ little whore likes it. You saw how he came for Ethan. Give it to him.”

“Watch your mouth, Godric,” Sirius said sharply.

Dreadlocks paused. “Sorry, Sirius,” he said, but didn’t sound particularly sorry at all.

There was a frozen moment, but Sirius let it go with a cool, “Just don’t forget who you’re talking about again.”

“Turn him over,” suggested the little, older guy helpfully. “That’ll be nice. He’s got a pretty face.”

The kid drew back a little and pushed tentatively on Harry’s thigh. Harry obediently rolled himself over, lying splayed on the thin rug that did very little for the hard, cold floor beneath. He felt strangely displayed like that, and his flushed face felt cold in the open air, as did his soft cock, damp around the head from coming. He realized with a grimace that the wetness seeping through his t-shirt was his own come.

He could also see his audience clearly. Ethan, already buttoned back up and looking at Harry with soft, appreciative eyes. Dreadlocks—Godric?—jeans open, cock out. 

Harry saw the kid’s flagging cock as a personal challenge. He wet his lips and curved his back by gripping his own thighs and pulling them toward his torso, lifting his ass from the floor.

He stared up at the kid until that nervous gaze snagged on his. It held. Harry let his lips part in a little pant. He’d just come, but with the other men’s silhouettes swimming in his peripheral vision, and the knowledge Sirius could see him, he felt himself stirring again. 

That was all it took. The kid shuffled forward clumsily and gripped Harry hard by the backs of his knees, lining himself up. He had to let go of Harry to get positioned, but then with one buck of his hips, he was halfway in.

The sudden burn was like a punch. Before tonight, Harry had only ever been handled by Sirius, expertly, tenderly; even when Sirius was rough, it was strategic, only in the moments where it would cause more pleasure than pain. For a moment, the kid’s cock just _hurt_. The angle wasn’t right, there was no rhythm; he didn’t yet know how to coordinate and thrust. Harry bit his lip and whimpered, which made Godric growl hungrily.

“Push his legs up,” Sirius advised, sounding, again, far away and yet achingly immediate. “Bend him in half. He’s flexible.”

The kid listened, leaning forward over Harry more, his shoulders pushing Harry’s legs up so his knees were close to his ears, and with that the angle was easier and the kid had leverage to find a rhythm, gasping with each thrust and blinking back tears. Just like that, Harry was getting a sloppy, eager fuck that should have humiliated him. It _did_ humiliate him, but in the sweetest, hottest way— 

The kid came, slumping against Harry with a little sob.

Ethan and Woodrow applauded. The little guy and Godric stepped up for their turn.

Harry focused hazily on the little guy’s cock. It was big, but he could handle it, probably. Sirius had once fucked him alongside a pretty large toy. It should be alright.

He remembered what Godric had said about his knees, though, and turned over again to kneel. Godric stood in front of him, pausing to push his hair off his forehead, where it was clinging to a thin layer of dewy sweat. Then he pushed it behind his ears, stroking Harry temple to chin, his eyes sharp and watchful.

“Pretty,” he said lowly, as though to himself.

Harry had the strange urge to say _thank you_ , but Sirius had instructed him not to speak, so he just swallowed and peered up at the lined face.

After a moment, Godric saw that Harry was looking at him and his eyes narrowed. “Suck me, then, pretty boy.” 

Harry obliged him. 

It was easier to go deep when he was upright like this; his throat was still sore from sucking Woodrow from his hands and knees. He almost unconsciously stroked Godric’s hips in little circles, like he liked to with Sirius, but the shape of Godric’s body was strange, wrong; all the curves were out of place and there were none of Sirius’ sharp edges.

While Harry was sorting through a moment of displacement, he felt a hand in the cleft of his ass, and spread knees pressing his legs further apart.

“Can’t wait,” explained the voice of the little guy in his ear, two insistent fingers spearing him so he gasped around Godric’s cock.

“Impatient little fucker,” Godric said, taking advantage of Harry’s wide mouth to fuck deeper still into his throat. It wasn’t clear if Godric had been talking about Harry or the possessor of the fifth, biggest cock, which was now bumping against Harry’s too-small hole in a patient, unceasing rhythm, knocking on a door that wouldn’t quite open wide enough.

A large hand attached to a skinny wrist reached around Harry’s waist and stroked his balls, then dove between his thighs and tugged at his rim, spreading Harry open for the head of his cock.

Harry gasped when the head went in, then had to focus on breathing as Godric, again, fucked past his palate.

“Gentle,” Sirius snapped. The two men froze a moment, then resumed with slightly less fervor.

“Sorry, boss,” said the skinny one, and tilted Harry’s hips so Harry was crouched above him instead of upright. The position allowed the massive cock to go in further, increasing the stretch as Harry got to the thickest part of the shaft. 

Godric held Harry by the neck and came in his mouth. He tasted more bitter than the others, Harry thought distractedly, even as big hands guided him down to sit on the cock still in him, until he realized with a gasp it was fully in, a fat blunt spear that had run him through.

“I didn’t think he’d make it in,” the kid breathed from close by.

“Come on then, pretty,” crooned Godric, looking half-drunk down at Harry, still massaging himself. He had the kind of dangling cock that looked about the same size soft as it did hard, and he was tugging at it as he rolled off the condom. “Fuck yourself on Dev’s big cock.”

Harry was spent. His thighs were already burning and he could barely focus. But then he realized that he’d happened to be positioned so Sirius was directly in front of him. His ornament was forgotten in one hand and he was watching Harry with a very familiar dark-eyed intensity.

“That’s right, kiddo,” Sirius said softly. “Fuck yourself, hm? For me.”

Harry tilted his head back, still holding Sirius’ eye, knowing how Sirius was infatuated with the sight of Harry’s curved throat, bared this way. He widened the stance of his legs a little, braced his hands on Dev’s thighs, and rose up slowly, the relief of the cock coming out giving him a moment to breathe before he let himself drop back onto it.

Sirius stared. Harry stared back. He rose and fell, noticing the way the Christmas lights blurred into one orangey-yellow ball of light when seen from the corner of his eye, the way Sirius wasn’t disguising his own hardness against the front of his denim jeans, the way four additional pairs of eyes watched him with the same glittering focus, though otherwise the men resembled one another very little.

He rose and fell until Dev was caught up enough to tip Harry forward and finish himself off in three long, agonizing thrusts, his big warm hand on Harry’s cock like a comfort, an apology. He patted Harry’s back when he was done, a strange echo of how Ethan had begun. Harry slid onto his elbows, then lay on his front, his cheek on the floor. He could see from here that the carpet could use a vacuum, and there were little bits of tinsel balled up in the corners of the room like sparkly dust bunnies.

One of them said, “Ready for round two?”

Apparently three of them were. Harry took them in a daze, on his stomach while they took their turns. Woodrow again, with abandon now that Harry was fucked so loose, and then the kid, who didn’t manage to do more this time than hump against Harry’s thighs but somehow came again anyway. And then Godric decided it was worth sacrificing his knees to hold Harry halfway up by the hips and fuck his ass like he’d fucked his mouth: arthyhmically, almost meanly. It made Harry desperately hard. With his heart pounding, rubbing himself off against the painfully rough rug, Harry came for the second time a moment behind Godric, pushed over the edge by the way Godric hissed, so low Sirius couldn’t hear, “ _Whore_.”

****

Sirius had parked the car around the corner the night before, assuming they’d need it. He would have carried Harry, but Harry slapped his hands away and walked, if slowly, of his own volition. Sirius followed, swallowed up by a combination of worry and arousal. He wouldn’t dare touch Harry tonight for sexual gratification, but he was definitely going to jerk off in the shower. Possibly twice.

And yet, Harry was quiet. Sirius didn’t like that, but it wasn’t unprecedented. Harry liked to think things through. Digest them before he talked through them. He wasn’t like Sirius, who processed by rambling.

Sirius did skip ahead to open the car door for Harry. He couldn’t help himself. Harry gave him a cool look as he got in, his sleeve brushing Sirius’ wrist. He smelled like sweat and come. Other people’s sweat and come. Sirius felt a rush of confusion so powerful it was almost a physical pain. When he closed Harry’s door, he leaned against it a moment to recover. Then he jogged around the trunk and got in on his own side.

Harry squirmed on the seat, looking out the window. “Thanks for the pillow,” he said quietly, drawing up his knees. Sirius reached out and almost touched him, then his hand fell back before it could be noticed. He felt his own trembling as he grabbed the gearshift and started the car. They rolled away from the curb. Sirius could barely hearing the sounds of traffic over the pounding of his pulse in his ears.

When a scene was intense, sometimes Harry wanted to be alone for a while before he slipped into Sirius’ arms. _“My sexy koala,_ ” Sirius would joke. _“My sexy Eucalyptus_ ,” Harry would answer. It was a ridiculous back and forth that made them laugh every time.

But now they were just angling through the dark streets in a quiet car, nothing illuminated but the shard of road in the headlights. Holiday decor was still out everywhere; apparently someone forgot to tell the world Christmas had passed days before.

“You’re thinking really loudly,” came Harry’s voice. “Stop.” He reached his arm around and batted at Sirius ‘til Sirius caught his hand in a hard grip and held it.

“Are you—was it…?” Sirius couldn’t even finish the sentence. Sirius knew enough about this style of sex, where you did Wrong Things in the Right Way, to know that he was meant to be calm, firm, and able. But in the heat of things Harry often wound up doing Sirius’ job. Sirius just hoped that was alright, so long as it got done. 

“It was great. It was perfect. It was nothing like I’d thought.”

Sirius felt a wave of relief so palpable, he wanted to mimic Harry’s posture and fall asleep. The urge was so sudden and strong he considered pulling the car over, but in the end he drove on. They were nearly home.

The pavement turned to gravel with a slight bounce that made Harry whimper. Sirius untangled their fingers and slid his hand up Harry’s arm to squeeze his shoulder. “Okay, baby?”

“No,” Harry groaned. “I may never walk again.”

Sirius grinned. “I’ve heard that before.”

“Shouldn’t you feel sorry for me?” 

“No. You only got what you were begging for.” 

“True.”

Harry reached up and put his hand over Sirius’. Sirius liked that; feeling Harry’s warm palm and the hot skin of his body at the same time. “Did you like the guys? I wasn’t sure about Godric. He’s such an asshole.”

Harry chuckled, twisting around with a grimace so he could look at Sirius. “So he wasn’t pretending?”

“Oh, no. He’s…” Sirius bit his lip. “Was it alright? I wasn’t sure, but I knew, with me right there, he wouldn’t…”

“It was good,” Harry said quietly. He looked faraway, thoughtful. Sirius nodded, taking his word for it.

“Okay. Good. Was there anything you didn’t like?”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think so. I was...I was pretty far away at the end. I don’t remember a lot of details after I was...um, on the floor.”

He’d been on the floor the whole time, technically, but Sirius knew what he meant. He was talking about the second round, the point where it took all Sirius’ strength not to jerk himself off, or kill everyone in the room except Harry, or both.

“I thought you might like that. Taking them when you were subbed out.”

Harry squeezed his hand and smiled. “Yeah.”

By the time the men left Harry was totally out of it. Sirius had gotten out the things he’d brought to clean Harry up. He’d done it carefully, taking his time, and in the process Harry had returned from the distance slowly. When he was semi-aware of his surroundings he’d immediately tried to lever himself into Sirius’ lap, so Sirius had gathered him up into his arms, half-lying on the rug beside him, telling him how beautiful and perfect he was until Harry drifted off into a brief sleep. Sirius had lost circulation to his leg. The rug had needed a vacuum, badly. The room had been cold, especially after he’d shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over Harry on top of the blanket he’d already tucked around him, just in case. He’d patiently waited twenty minutes ‘til Harry came around again, and then they had walked to the car.

Now Sirius eased through two sharp turns, and then slowed to a crawl as he navigated the driveway, pitted with ridges and holes. He needed to have it graded, but the price of gravel was astronomical. Harry had found a position where the swaying vehicle didn’t seem to bother him. His eyes were closed and his hand was lax over Sirius’, like he was half-asleep again.

Sirius parked just by the cabin steps. Harry let him pick him up this time and carry him bridal style into the house. The gesture was more difficult than Sirius wanted to admit. He had a bad knee and a shit back too, and the steps were wobbly. But they made it. He tucked Harry in, tugging off his shoes, then shucked his own shirt and boots and climbed in behind him.

Harry wouldn’t settle for being the little spoon, of course. He twisted around ‘til they were face to face and wormed his arms around Sirius, suffocatingly tight.

“I’d call you a koala, but you’re more like a sloth. Go to sleep, you’re fucking exhausted,” Sirius murmured into Harry’s hair, jerking his head back so Harry didn’t break his jaw with his head as he pulled himself closer still.

“What kind of trees do sloths climb?” Harry asked, nuzzling Sirius’ chest, too close and his breath too hot, but Sirius obligingly cupped his shoulder in one hand and parted his knees so Harry could shove a leg between them, like he wanted to climb inside Sirius’ skin. 

“I don’t think they’re picky,” Sirius said after a moment’s thought. “I think they’ll take just about any kind of tree.”

They both went still, realizing what Sirius had said. Sirius felt a moment of horror, then a strong and inappropriate urge to laugh. So of course he laughed, short and loud. Unabashed. 

Fortunately, Harry joined him, smothering his giggles against Sirius’ chest. 

“Fitting, then,” he said when he could breathe.

“I don’t…” Harry began, then fell quiet. Sirius trailed a fingertip up the knobs of Harry’s spine, always palpable even through his clothes, and waited for him to start again. “It was perfect, but I don’t think I want to do it again.”

Sirius said, evenly, “No?”

He felt Harry’s nose brush his chest as he shook his head slightly. “No. It was maybe my first fantasy? It really got lodged in my head. But back then, I hadn’t…you know.”

“I don’t think I do.”

Harry huffed, then pulled back enough to glare at Sirius through his tangled bangs. “I hadn’t met...you know. _You_.”

Sirius couldn’t help his instant, wide grin. “If only you’d seen a picture of me back then, we could have avoided this whole thing.”

Harry rolled his eyes, the redness in his cheeks obvious even with nothing brightening the cabin but the spill of moonlight. “Oh my God. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m not,” Sirius said smugly. “You are.”

Harry dropped back into his arms with a grumble, but he didn’t extricate his leg from between Sirius’, and his arms latched back into place at once.

“I guess I am,” he admitted grudgingly. “But don’t get used to it.”

Sirius laughed into Harry’s hair. His grin faded as he turned those instructions over and over in his mind, but he waited until Harry was safely asleep, breathing deep and even, before he dared to reply.

“I’m definitely never going to get used to any of this.”

He lived every day like it was snatched from a dream. There were the imperfections, sure. Right now he was hot and claustrophobic and the position he’d been manhandled into had awoken a slow-smoldering burn in his knee. When he overheard Harry arguing with his parents over the phone and knew the rift in that family was due to Sirius, it was a lance in his heart. He kept bouncing between the shitty jobs he was overqualified for but were the best he could hope for given his criminal record. And all the letters he sent Remus returned to him unopened.

But there was also the wind raking back his hair when he busted the speed limits on his bike on the curving two-lane that wove between the hills. He had a motorcycle he’d built from parts out in the shed that Harry had helped him coax to life three days before Christmas, though before they were done celebrating it had promptly caught fire. Out here in the silent woods with the windows open he could almost forget that he’d ever been in a cell.

There was wide open space and days full of decisions Sirius could make for himself. And there was Harry, presently snoring wetly into Sirius’ sternum, driven by some dream to jerk his knee upward, but Sirius hastily trapped it between his thighs before it could connect with his vulnerable balls. 

All was well.


End file.
